


A Lady In Waiting

by TheRedWulf



Series: Stansa One Shots [22]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence, Character Death, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Kings & Queens, Loss of Virginity, May/December Relationship, Mutual Pining, Older Man/Younger Woman, Pregnancy, Smut, Unrequited Love, Wedding Night, stansa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:35:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22276450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRedWulf/pseuds/TheRedWulf
Summary: AU - Canon Divergence - In which King Stannis Baratheon cannot take his eyes off of a Lady in Waiting...Picset is viewableHERE
Relationships: Stannis Baratheon & Sansa Stark, Stannis Baratheon/Sansa Stark
Series: Stansa One Shots [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1405915
Comments: 53
Kudos: 381





	A Lady In Waiting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tommyginger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tommyginger/gifts).



> A one shot that has been brewing in my mind for a while. Special thank you to 'TommyGinger' (and Cream) for the unending love and support! (And bearing with me on this, the king of ships). I can't remember if this was my idea or yours...Happy un-birthday!
> 
> I don't consider myself a writer. This is unbeta'd so I apologize for any errors. :D :P
> 
> Thank you for reading!

“I am sorry to inform you that the Queen is dead, Your Grace” Maester Cressen said softly, but Stannis did not turn to face the older man. His eyes remained locked on where Lady Sansa Stark was sitting in the garden, his daughter Shireen on her lap. Shireen was laughing, clapping in happiness as Lady Sansa sang to her, a normal activity for both of them. 

It was a vision that any man, mortal or otherwise, would have a hard time turning away from. He realized that several moments had passed since the Maester had spoken and he forced himself to look away from the idyllic scene beyond his window. 

“Thank you for all you did to ease her” Stannis nodded to the expectant Maester. 

“In truth there was not much I could do, Your Grace” Cressen admitted. “Her Grace, the Queen was very sickly and, I believe, determined to die.” 

“Just so” Stannis repressed a sigh. “You have my thanks all the same.” 

“You are most welcome, Your Grace” Cressen bowed his head. 

“Davos” Stannis turned to his oldest, truest friend and his Hand. “See to it that word reaches those that it should, ring the bells and I will…” he glanced to the window. “I will speak with Lady Sansa and Princess Shireen.” 

“Of course, Your Grace” Davos nodded. “Though, if it is all the same, I do not believe that this news will affect Princess Shireen.”

“No” Stannis agreed. “Lady Sansa is the only mother that Shireen has known.” 

“I agree, Your Grace” Davos replied. 

“I will speak with Lady Sansa” Stannis repeated. “Then, should she agree, we can tell Shireen.” 

“Your Grace” Davos bowed his head and he strode from the room Cressen on his heels. 

Stannis turned back to the window, his eyes seeking out the familiar shock of fiery red hair and the little girl on her lap. The sight, as always, affected him in ways that he refused to acknowledge. 

Lady Sansa Stark had arrived in King’s Landing with her father, Lord Eddard Stark, shortly after Stannis had ascended to the Iron Throne. His brother, Robert, had died on the eve of his wedding, piss drunk and surrounded by whores. There had been an outcry from the Lannisters, having had their hearts set on making Lady Cersei queen, but Stannis was the rightful heir and so he travelled with his wife to do his duty. 

In the beginning, Selyse had been happy with the prospect of being Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, but when the reality of the task had set in, so had illnesses, depression and fits of rage. She was a weak woman at her core, and she had been unable to bear the mantle of her duty.

Now, she was free of it and he was left to shoulder it still. 

Turning, he looked to the window and he knew that beyond, Lady Sansa and Shireen were smiling and enjoying the morning sunshine. Someday, the burden of power would rest on Shireen’s shoulders, but for today she was truly happy.

From the moment Lady Sansa arrived, Stannis did all he could not to notice her beauty. She was a woman grown at the age of ten and eight, and even more beautiful than her Lady Mother. But not only was she beautiful, she was kind, caring and well-educated. She spoke with a lyrical voice, always poised and elegant, even when insulted. 

His wife--his late wife, immediately decided that Lady Sansa was the only woman in the realm worthy of being her ‘Lady in Waiting’ and closest confidant. And so, when Lord Eddard returned to Winterfell, to act as his Warden of the North, Lady Sansa remained in the capitol.

She became Selyse’s constant companion, a testament to her unfailing patience and kindness. She was with Selyse during her pregnancy and, as far as he knew, she was the first person to hold Princess Shireen after her birth. The first time he laid eyes on his child, she was in Lady Sansa’s arms and the sight had torn his insides asunder. 

Selyse’s health had never recovered after the birth and it began a steady decline of her mental and physical health. She wanted little to nothing to do with the daughter she had borne, lamenting that she had failed in providing a son. Perhaps it was because she wanted nothing to do with _him_. She made no secret of her lack of desire for him, even if he was her husband and king. Stannis had not visited her bedchambers since she told him she was with child, and he was ashamed at the relief he felt at being freed from such duties. 

As the Queen’s health slowly declined over time, it became more and more obvious to anyone who bothered to look that Lady Sansa was Princess Shireen’s mother and caretaker. Anytime Stannis visited his daughter, it was to find her in Sansa’s arms or in her care, and before long he was visiting his daughter to see Lady Sansa. For over two years now, she had worked to raise his daughter, teaching her, guiding her and caring for her, all without ever being asked to. She was truly an incredible woman.

His attachment to her was something that brought him shame. He was, until today, a married man and he should not ache for the company of another. But ache he did, even if his ache was not returned. 

Taking a deep breath, he crossed to the glass doors that led to the garden, his long legs easily eating up the distance until he was standing before her. 

“Your Grace” she stood smoothly, Shireen on her hip, and curtsied. Today she wore a Northern gown in a deep grey, her miniscule waist emphasized by a leather belt with a Stark direwolf sigil embossed across it.

“Lady Sansa” he greeted. 

“Would you like to say hello to your father, darling?” Sansa turned to Shireen who gave a soft ‘hello’ and a smile before snuggling back against Sansa’s neck. It was absurd, really, to be envious of a toddler’s open affection for her. He wondered if he were to place his head in such a position, if his worries would melt away and he would finally be able to breathe as he had before he wore the crown.

“I would like to speak with you,” he informed her, clearing his throat in an attempt to focus his thoughts. “On a matter of great importance.” 

Sansa frowned deeply, her brow furrowing for a moment before she spoke, “The Queen is…” she asked without speaking the word.

“She is,” he replied simply. 

“I am very sorry for your loss, Your Grace,” she said sincerely, reaching out with her free hand, stopping just short of placing her hand over his forearm. He was unable to stop his hand, however, from closing the distance between them. He took her hand gently, cupping her fingers and resting his thumb on the top of her knuckles. She looked at their hands, touching skin to skin for the first time, and then up to him with barely concealed surprise. 

“I know that it is customary for you to return home on such an occasion, but I find the circumstances are unusual,” he continued, reluctantly releasing her hand. “I cannot force you to stay, but Shireen...”

“I wish to stay” Sansa told him without hesitation. “While the circumstances are indeed are unusual, I find that I consider Princess Shireen my child, if I am permitted to say as much.” 

“I would agree that you are the only mother she has known. It would be cruel to part you both” he said. Sansa gave a soft smile, adjusting her hold on Shireen who looked as if she were going to fall asleep at any moment. “Shireen is all the better for your attention and teachings, I fear Selyse was not an affectionate woman.” 

“No” Sansa agreed, sadly. “But my mother was loving and I think that all daughters need such an influence in their life.” 

“I would agree” Stannis replied. “I doubt that I will have more children, and as Shireen is my heir, I could not imagine a better mother for a Queen.”

“That is very kind of you to say. Thank you, Your Grace,” she smiled at him, that true and genuine smile that she seemed to only show to him, her eyes glossy with unshed tears. Just then, the bells rang out in the towers, letting the entire city know that the Queen was dead. Stannis exhaled, looking to the towers as the heavy burden of duty settled upon his shoulders. He longed for the simpler days when he was just the Lord of Dragonstone.

“Your Grace?” Sansa said softly and he turned back to her. “Should I be able to help, in any way, please do not hesitate to ask.” 

“Thank you, Lady Sansa” he did his best to smile and judging by the happiness in her eyes, he succeeded. 

_“Your Grace” Lady Sansa stood to curtsey as he entered the room, the bundle in her arms protesting at being jostled._

_“Can you silence her infernal whimpering?” Selyse groaned at her lady in waiting. “I have a megrim.”_

_“Of course, Your Grace” Sansa looked to him and then walked from the chamber, leaving the Queen and King alone._

_“I see the way you look at her” Selyse glared at him, such hatred lacing her words that they dripped with venom._

_“What?” he met her eyes._

_“Lady Sansa” Selyse stated plainly, her eyes held no emotion. “She is beautiful; beauty enough to turn your head, something I thought was impossible.”_

_“You have no idea what you’re speaking about,” he stated, her words grating on his nerves and he hated that he felt so exposed--stripped bare._

_“I’ll be dead soon” Selyse said flippantly. “And that little monster that did this to me will have her for a mother.”_

_“Our child is not a monster” Stannis corrected her, his tone sharp and cold._

_“It should have been a son; the seed is weak” she lamented. “At least Sansa takes care of it.”_

_“Her” Stannis corrected._

_“If you were your brother, I would wonder if you were already fucking her” Selyse mused. “But your cock barely works as it is.”_

_Stannis clenched his teeth together so brutally he thought they may break, “Such words are beneath you.”_

_“So was marrying you” she glared and he’d had enough._

_“I bid you good day” he spun on his heels and left her to her depressions, following the path that Lady Sansa had taken only moments ago. He walked the stone hall and found her standing in the stained glass window at the end, speaking softly to the now-awake baby in her arms._

_It was fortunate that Shireen was more Baratheon than Florent, her hair already dark and wavy, her blue eyes bright. He had never seen Selyse hold her, or even touch her, but Shireen was not lacking for attention or affection, not with Lady Sansa here._

_“Your Grace” she said softly, giving a small curtsey. She must have noticed the tension in his face because she frowned, “Is all well?”_

_“It is as it always is,” he replied, looking to where Shireen was reaching out to him. She wore a soft pale yellow dress with a doe embroidered over the heart. “Did you make her dress?”_

_“I did” Sansa smiled. “I have made all of her clothes and blankets,” she said. “I love sewing and it is nice to have someone to embroider for.”_

_“I had no idea you did such work” he admitted as Shireen reached for him again._

_“She’d like you to hold her, it seems” Sansa smiled, easily maneuvering his daughter into his arms. It had been Lady Sansa who taught him how to hold a baby to begin with, and this was now something of habit. As soon as she was in his arms, Shireen made a grab for the stag pin on his chest, obviously infatuated by the shine and Sansa laughed softly._

_Stannis looked to her, careful to hide the admiration he had for her as he drank in her beauty. Her porcelain skin seemed to glow in the light of the stained glass window and her hair, worn always in the Northern style, was a curtain of living fire. She was the tallest woman he had met, aside from the Tarth heir, but she still only reached his shoulder, even in her boots._

_“She already knows she’s a proud Baratheon” Sansa said as Shireen touched the stag pin._

_“And someday a Baratheon Queen” he added._

_“Her Grace is merely upset that she could not give you an heir” Sansa said solemnly._

_“Her Grace is upset she was forced to marry me and bear my attentions at all, Lady Sansa, you do not need to make excuses for her” he said simply._

_“Not all women are blessed with intelligence” she said softly, barely above a whisper and he gave a short laugh._

_“I know what I am, Lady Sansa” he shook his head and Shireen ‘bapped’ his cheek with her palm. “I am not the King the people wanted, but I am what they have nonetheless. The second son is often unwanted.”_

_“I amend my earlier statement,” she said. “Not all people are blessed with intelligence.”_

_“Ba!” Shireen declared in agreement and Stannis found he had no words, no reply. Instead, he stood beside Lady Sansa in the colorful light of the window, holding his daughter in his arms and wondering what Shireen would have looked like if Sansa truly were her Mother._

Stannis growled in frustration, tossing the letter aside and standing from his desk in a fit of anger. He paced to the fireplace, resting his hands on the mantle and leaning against its solid strength. 

“Your Grace” Davos paused in the doorway. “Is all well?” 

“I’ve a letter from Lord Stark” Stannis explained, turning to look at his Hand, his arms falling to his sides. “Asking that I return his daughter to him, as he’s arranged a marriage for her.”

“I see” Davos moved into the office, standing beside him in front of the fire. 

“He implied that his daughter is of noble birth, from an old and respected house and I have had her playing nursemaid for far too long” Stannis all but growled. “He will be here in a sennight to retrieve her.”

“Lord Stark is a reasonable man, perhaps when he sees the attachment between Lady Sansa and Princess Shireen, he will allow her to stay” Davos suggested and Stannis shook his head. 

“He is right, Sansa--Lady Sansa is meant for more than raising my daughter” he admitted softly. 

“More?”

“She should be a Queen” he was unable to look at Davos as he spoke the words, instead he watched the flames dance in the hearth. 

“Then make her one” Davos replied, as if it were as simple as that. 

“I already had one wife who despised me--”

“Lady Sansa does not despise you” Davos countered, believe it strongly enough to interrupt his king.

“She would” Stannis replied. “Should I wed her, forced her to bear my attentions, she would come to hate me in time.” 

“I disagree” Davos stated. “Lady Sansa is not Selyse, quite the opposite in fact. While I am sure that there is a certain level of ‘duty’, she does harbor some affection for you.” 

“Affection” Stannis scoffed. 

“She cares for your daughter as if she were born of her body” Davos explained. “She takes meals with you, she makes you clothing” his eyes went to the flaming stag embroidered on his doublet and Stannis felt his cheeks heat. “Your suit would not be unwelcomed.” 

“What would you have me do?” Stannis asked his friend, the man who had become his true brother. Man to man, friend to friend, he asked. 

“Speak with her, give her all of the options and let her choose” Davos said. “You’re a good man and a good king, she sees that. Give her the choice and I would bet you will be surprised.” 

“And if she refuses?” Stannis asked. 

“Then you will have at least tried.” 

Sansa pulled the door closed, leaving a gap so that she could hear Shireen, should she awaken. The princess, her daughter in all but blood, was nearing her fourth nameday and soon would outgrow the need for naps, but for now she was fast asleep on Sansa’s bed. It seemed to be their shared bed more often than not these days.

She had been afraid the first time she came to King’s Landing. The city was hot, crowded and overwhelming, and the idea of meeting the King was as intimidating as the man himself. The first time she laid eyes on King Stannis Baratheon, he was standing tall on the steps of the Red Keep as he greeted her father. He had stolen the very air from her lungs and she thought that she might faint on those marble steps. 

Tall, lean and broad, everything from the sharp chisel of his jaw to the way his hand lazily rested on the hilt of his Valyrian blade, screamed ‘warrior’. She knew, from her father’s stories, that Stannis had been an integral part of Robert’s Rebellion and a fierce commander. But she hadn’t been prepared for his overwhelming presence. 

His sharp blue eyes seemed to cut through her as she curtsied before him, the crown of golden antlers hiding the silver and black hair atop his head. He had a small scar on the left side of his neck, she noticed, then quickly averted her eyes. She shouldn’t stare at him so intently, he was the King and he was _married_. 

She had been surprised when Queen Selyse asked her to stay in the city as her Lady in Waiting, and while it was an honor, she didn’t know how long she would be able to live in the King’s company without betraying her fascination with him. 

She did her best to hide it, all of it. How eager she was to converse with him, how her eyes watched him anytime he was in the Queen’s company. She hid her smile when the Queen told her that Stannis never came to her chambers, hid her sadness as the Queen grew heavy with child. 

Shireen was the most beautiful baby she had ever seen, from her porcelain skin to her inky black hair, she was instantly smitten with the baby. She had helped her Mother with Bran and Rickon, which came in handy when Selyse refused to touch or hold the baby _girl_ that she’d delivered. 

Sansa’s heart ached for the baby, for the princess who had no control over her gender. She took Shireen as her own, saw to all of her care and as the Queen’s health declined, the reality that she would be this girl’s only mother set in. Though she did not carry her beneath her heart or feed her of her own body, Shireen Baratheon was her daughter.

The King began to seek her out--no, not her, Shireen, and with increasing frequency she found herself in a private audience with the man who’d once intimidated her. She learned about him, the true him that was carefully concealed and she realized that she had fallen deeply, irrevocably in love with him.

In the darkness of her room, Sansa would pretend that Shireen was her child--her’s and the King’s, the best pieces of them both. But that could never be, she would remind herself. She would love Shireen, care for her, teach her all that she needed to know, and then she would have to go home…

She had just taken her seat in the window of her sitting room, picking up her current embroidery project, when there was a soft knock on the open door. 

“Your Grace” she made to stand but he waved her off. 

“Please,” he assured her. 

“Shireen has just fallen asleep. Would you care to sit?” she asked, setting her fabric and thread aside, clearing the large padded bench off. 

He hesitated for a brief moment, then crossed to sit beside her, a respectable distance away. She smiled to herself as she noticed he was wearing the doublet she had made him for his name day, the rich black fabric a lovely fit on his lean frame. They sat in silence for several minutes and she held her hands in her lap in a desperate attempt to stop from worrying her thumbs. Sitting beside him, she examined his profile and could see the tension in his jaw as he clenched and ground his teeth.

“Lady Sansa” he began, flexing his jaw for a moment as he gathered the words. “I have had a letter from your Father.”

“Oh?” her stomach sank in preparation for whatever ill news had come from the North. Surely it was bad if the King himself was coming to her.

“He will arrive in a sennight, after a brief stay will take you home to Winterfell---”

“No” she whispered fiercely, standing from the bench to face him. Even sitting he was nearly taller than her and she met his eyes directly. “Please, please don’t send me away.” 

“Send you away?” he repeated, shaking his head. “He has asked for you to return. He has, to my understanding, arranged a marriage for you.” 

“No” she protested, closing her eyes and turning away, hating the hot burn of tears that ran down her cheeks. She nearly jumped out of her skin when the warm pads of the King’s thumbs wiped them away. Her eyes opened to see him standing before her, looking every bit as tormented as she felt. “Please.” 

“You’re a woman of noble birth, not a nursemaid” he said sadly. 

“But she is _mine_ ” she choked on a sob. “In all ways that matter, she is mine and you cannot send me away. Shireen is here. _You_ are here. I do not want to go.” 

“You are her mother” he assured her, holding her cheeks cupped in his hands. “But if you stay only to care for her, you will not have children of your own, not have a husband, not--” 

“I do not need them, not when I--no, I cannot marry” she trailed off. “Please…”

“Cannot?” 

“Cannot” she repeated. “It would take me away from you--from you both, and I...I cannot.” 

“Sansa” he spoke her name as if it were a prayer. “If I speak with your father, if he sees how attached you are to Shireen and her to you, then perhaps--” 

“Stannis” she felt her cheeks heat at the informal address, she had only spoken his name aloud in the privacy of her rooms, never in front of him. 

“I cannot let you go” he said the words in a rush, closing his eyes for a brief moment before he refocused on her. “Gods help me, I cannot, I _will_ not. If you have to marry, marry me. Me and only me. Be my wife, be Shireen’s mother, be my--”

“Yes” she felt as if she would burst with happiness and she all but yelled the word. She laughed and her hands lifted to touch his face for the first time. The stubble of his beard was surprisingly soft and he was so warm, she felt it sink into her heart. 

“Be my lover” he finished softly, stepping closer. 

“Every night” she promised and she knew her cheeks were bright red. “Every day, until my heart stops beating.” 

“I was so ashamed,” he said and she frowned. “To be married to another and yet feel so acutely for you.”

“Selyse has been gone for nearly a year,” Sansa assured him. 

“And yet I have loved you much longer” he admitted.

“Just as I have loved you much longer” Sansa met his confession with her own and she felt the tension seep from his body. 

“Sansa” he whispered, closing the gap between their bodies. She felt the lean muscle of his chest pressing against her and her hands slid to his shoulders, feeling them flex as he guided her close, leaning down to kiss her softly. Her first kiss, she sighed, banding her arms around him. She felt his tongue dart across her lower lip and she parted her lips to allow him deeper. She could taste him, the lemon and mint on his lips and she could feel his warmth, the affection he kept so carefully concealed. 

She had seen small glimpses of it, the affection in his heart. He showed it to Shireen, the way he held her, spoke with her, listened to her childish ramblings. He was a man capable of great love, but he had been hurt deeply by others--the worst of which was Selyse, and hid himself away. 

But now…

She whimpered as his hands carded into her hair and she tilted her head, drinking deeply from his mouth until the need for air pulled them apart. He rested his forehead against hers, both of them breathless and flushed, their hearts racing. She allowed her hands to travel over the material of his doublet, feeling the hard planes of him and committing them to memory. 

“I am going to marry you the moment your Father arrives” he promised and she laughed, nodding as fresh tears escaped her eyes. 

“I would have cried for months if you had married another” she admitted. 

“Never” he said emphatically. “Only you. I did not get to choose my first wife, but I would have had none but you as my second.” 

“Is that why you said you’d likely never have more children?” she frowned.

“Yes” he replied, his hands travelling through her hair, sending shivers down her spine. 

“Sometimes” she whispered. “I pretend that Shireen is ours” she choked on a sob. “I pretend that she is our daughter.” 

“I have often wondered what she would have looked like, were she born of your body” Stannis admitted, his hands settling on her waist and pulling her close. He pressed his lips to her forehead and she held onto his doublet, tighter than she’d held to anyone, never wanting to let him go. 

“I love you.”

“I love you,” he replied as the door to her bedroom slowly opened and Shireen appeared, rubbing her eyes. 

“I thought I heard Father” Shireen smiled, skipping to greet him. Sansa watched as Stannis released her and bent to pick up his daughter, easily holding her on his side. The sight of Stannis with Shireen had always warmed her heart, and today she didn’t have to hide that. She couldn’t wait to see Stannis holding their baby, to be able to openly admire how handsome he looked. 

“Princess” Stannis smiled at Shireen. “I have some good news.”

“Really?”

“We’re going to be married” he took Sansa’s hand and lifted it, kissing the back. 

Shireen frowned, her brow furrowed and she looked at their hands, “You’re not married?”

“No, my darling” Sansa gave a watery laugh. 

“Oh” Shireen nodded. “Can I come see?” 

“Absolutely.”

_The sound beckoned him closer, like sirens of the sea, and Stannis found his feet carrying him across his office and towards the sound. He shouldn’t have been surprised to see Lady Sansa in the gardens, her soft grey dress dancing around her legs as she sand to the baby in her arms._

_His baby, he thought with a dash of smug pride. His._

_Shireen was only a sennight old, but her attachment to Lady Sansa was obvious and encouraged by the fact that Selyse would have nothing to do with her. Nothing at all. He had learned that she had even gone so far as to procure, from her private nurse, a tonic that would dry her milk, effectively cutting all ties with Shireen._

_Fury unlike any he had ever felt had cut through him, and in its wake, he felt himself detach entirely from the wife that he hadn’t wanted to begin with. To be so callous as to deny your own child, your flesh and blood, after years of desperate pleas to the Gods for a baby, was absurd and foolish._

_His daughter, however, was no less loved and no less wanted for it. Shireen had Lady Sansa’s gentle heart and elegant charm to guide her, which was the education and care that every future queen deserved._

_“Oh, Your Grace” Lady Sansa spotted him, her singing and gentle dance coming to a halt as she curtsied._

_“Forgive me, I--”_

_“You must want to see your daughter” Sansa’s cheeks were flushed with embarrassment. “I fear I have rather kidnapped her.”_

_“Understandable, given the circumstances” he said gruffly and her smile fell._

_“I know, and I am---I am sorry, Your Grace,” she replied quietly, stepping closer. “Would you care to hold her?”_

_“If you would teach me the best way to--that is to say, I have not held a baby before” he admitted._

_“I can teach you” she smiled. “See my arms? Hold yours like this” she explained and he looked to the odd way she had her arms crooked and attempted to mimic it. “Raise your elbow just a bit--er, Your Grace.”_

_He adjusted and she moved closer--closer than she had ever been to him before and he could smell the floral scent of her perfume and see every freckle across her nose and cheeks. Weight settled into his arms and he looked down to see Shireen looking up at him._

_“There” Sansa smiled, placing her hand over the blanket and adjusting his hands. He regretted that the blanket prevented their skin from touching, for he longed to feel her hands against his. “You’re a natural.”_

_“She is much lighter than I expected” he said softly, staring down into deep blue eyes that were so like his own._

_“She is only a sennight old, she will grow in time” Sansa assured him. “She is very quiet, serious, like her father.”_

_“Is she?” Stannis asked, looking up to her and seeing the soft expression at which she looked at Shireen in his arms._

_“A fine quality to have” Sansa replied. “My little brother Rickon was positively wild from the first moment he arrived. I am grateful that this little one is much like you.”_

_“Frowning and dour?” he scoffed, shaking his head._

_“Thoughtful and, maybe, a little reticent” Sansa corrected softly, her words and sincerity touching him._

_“I would thank you, Lady Sansa, for all that you have done for her” he looked to his daughter who seemed to be drifting into sleep. “She deserves more care, more affection than I know how to give--”_

_“I can teach you, Your Grace” she assured him, looking away as her cheeks flushed deeply, a most becoming look for her. “What I mean is, I am happy to help in any way that I can.”_

_“You’re most dutiful” he admitted._

_“It was never a duty” she replied, motioning to the stone bench near the tree behind them. “Would you care to sit, Your Grace? She will likely sleep for a while and it is quiet in the gardens.”_

_“I--yes, thank you” he steeled himself, taking the opportunity for more time in her--Shireen’s company. He cursed himself a fool, knowing full well who he truly wished to spend time with, even if it damned him._

Sansa stood at Stannis’ side, tall and proud with her hand on Stannis’ forearm. Outwardly he looked as impassive as ever, but the way his opposite hand came to cover hers on his arm was a display of affection she had not expected. Shireen stood beside her, watching intently as Lord Stark dismounted his horse and made it way up the steps of the Red Keep. 

“Lord Stark” Stannis greeted as her father reached the landing they stood on. 

“Your Grace” her father’s eyes fell to where their hands were joined on the King’s arm. “That’s the way of it then?” he noted with a wry chuckle. 

“Yes” Stannis replied directly. 

“Father,” Sansa said softly and he turned to her with a smile. 

“Look at you, you’ve grown so beautiful” Ned cupped her cheek. “It’s no wonder he couldn’t let you go.”

“I love him” Sansa whispered, aware of their audience of onlookers. 

“Lemon cake” he smiled. 

“Mother” the soft voice of Shireen broke into their moment and Sansa turned from her father and crouched, lifting Shireen onto her hip. Her opposite hand slid into Stannis’ and he helped her stand upright. 

“Princess Shireen, a pleasure to meet you” Ned smiled at her. 

“Hello” she greeted. 

“What do we say to greet noblemen?” Sansa prompted and Shireen made a face of great thinking. 

“Plead-sure to meet you?” she asked and Sansa smiled at her. 

“Excellent, my darling.”

“She’s you, Lemon Cake” Ned chuckled, smiling at the little princess. 

“Let’s journey inside” Stannis prompted. “I’m sure you’re tired from your journey and there is much to discuss.”

“Yes, of course, Your Grace” Ned agreed. “Like your plans to keep my daughter here in the South.”

“You love him?” Ned asked Sansa as they sat in her private solar. Shireen was sitting before the fire, playing with the stuffed doll that Sansa had made for her. 

“Very much” she felt her cheeks warm. “I loved him before, from afar when he was wed” she admitted. “I never dared to hope that he might be mine.”

“He is the King and I am near powerless to refuse him, but I could not have parted for you from anything less than love” Ned admitted. “I have never seen Stannis so...affected.”

“He loves me” she said softly as Shireen stood from the rug and ran to her, climbing into her lap. “Hello my darling” she wrapped her arms around the little girl as she snuggled into her chest. Her little girl. 

“You are warmer than the fire” Shireen beamed. 

“She’s you, a very little you” Ned chuckled. 

“Selyse never held her, not once” Sansa smoothed Shireen’s hair. “But from the moment the midwife placed her in my arms, she was mine.” 

“You know” Ned started. “If I give your hand to the king without your mother here, she’ll have my head.”

“I do not want to wait to marry him—“ she paused at her Father’s frown. “Not because we’ve, no” her cheeks warmed. “We haven’t broken propriety, Father, I promise.”

“Stannis is an honorable man” Ned agreed. “I can easily see that he loves you. Deeply so.”

“He is. He is a good man, a good father and a caring king” she agreed as Shireen sagged heavily against her. “And you, my little darling, are overdue for a nap.”

“No, I’m not sleepy” Shireen pouted and Ned laughed. 

“She is absolutely you.”

“With this kiss, I pledge my love” Stannis couldn’t wait any longer and pulled Sansa into his arms, kissing her deeply as the onlookers around them in the Godswood applauded. 

His wife. His. His hands tunneled into her hair as he devoured her mouth, tasting the sugar on her lips and the spice in her mouth. Her slender hands held tightly to his biceps, holding her steady as he slowly ended their kiss. Unable to resist, he placed a brief, soft kiss on her lips before rising to his full height. 

“Husband” Sansa whispered, tears on her cheeks as she smiled up at him. Her hand slid from his arms to his chest, resting over the stag on the doublet she’d made him for their wedding. 

“Wife” he smiled a small smile. She looked stunning in a dress of deep gold, a thick black leather belt at her waist, this time with a pair of antlers circling her waist. Over her shoulders was her wedded cloak, a billowing black piece with a flaming stag embroidered on the back. 

“Father” Shireen asked and he looked down at where she stood beside them. “Are we married now?” she whispered. 

“Yes, my Princess, we’re married” he said and beyond his daughter he saw Catelyn Stark covering her mouth as she laughed in happiness. He’d waited almost a moon’s turn for Lady Catelyn to arrive from Winterfell, longer than he had patience for but Lord Stark had insisted his wife be present for Sansa’s wedding. Catelyn had been pleased with the arrangement Lord Stark had made for Sansa, but her daughter being Queen seemed to suit her even more.

This morning they’d exchanged vows in the Great Sept and now they’d spoken the words in front of the Old Gods. Both Starks we’re satisfied. Sansa was his wife, he was satisfied. After decades of solitude and alienation, he had a family of his own, a true family. 

Placing Sansa’s hand on his arm, Shireen took Sansa’s free hand and they returned together inside the Red Keep for the wedding feast. As they walked, Shireen skipped in front of them, momentarily pausing to jump over a crack in the stones or an invisible barrier, the happiness emanating from her was palpable. 

Stannis caught Davos’ smiling eyes as they entered the Great Hall and he couldn’t help but nod in return, knowing that his oldest friend was happy for him. Davos had been with him in Storm’s End, with him in Dragonstone and he had stood by him during the darkest days. Now, Stannis had a hope that those days were finally over. 

“If I may steal you for a moment” Stannis guided Sansa to a small chamber off to the side of the Great Hall. “Davos will watch Shireen.” 

“Of course” Sansa held to his arm and when the door closed behind them, she turned to face him. 

“You are so beautiful” he cupped her cheeks, kissing her softly. “My Queen.” 

“My King” she replied with a serene smile. 

“All Queens have need of a crown” he turned to the side table where a delicate golden crown, a more feminine version of his own antler-laden piece, lay on a piece of golden velvet. 

“Oh, it’s lovely” Sansa whispered as he lifted it. 

“While it is customary to place this on your head in front of an audience, I wanted this moment to be ours” he raised the crown and placed it atop her head, the piece fitting perfectly over her simple Northern hairstyle. “Perfect. I am honored to be the first to look upon Queen Sansa Baratheon in all her glory.” 

“Sansa Baratheon” she smiled, a small tear escaping her eye and he wiped it away with his thumb. “I had not dared to hope--to believe that you could be mine.” 

“And yet, yours I am” he stepped closer, leaning down to take her lips in a deep, sinful kiss. He had never been a man prone to lust or desire, he was always firmly in control of his person, but just as she had captivated his heart, she also captivated his body and he took every opportunity to kiss her. When at last he broke the kiss, they were breathless and her cheeks were flushed with desire, a sight he would never tire of.

“Our feast awaits” he whispered against her lips.

“Let them wait” she placed her hand on his neck and guided his lips back to hers.

_Stannis watched from the shadows of the hall, his eyes unable to look away from the sight that greeted him upon arriving at Lady Sansa’s solar. He had first gone to Shireen’s rooms, only to find them empty and panic had momentarily gripped his chest until he realized that he knew exactly where she was._

_So he crossed the distance to Lady Sansa’s rooms, which he learned had moved recently to be closer to the nursery. There, through the open door, he found Lady Sansa asleep on the spacious window seat, the small form of his daughter curled up on her chest, tucked safely under her chin._

_On the floor discarded was a thick book and a blanket that had slipped away. Though there was no real chill in the air, he did wonder if they should be covered, a silly notion that he had no idea where it came from._

_He looked at each end of the hall and found no one else around, not a maid or guard, and with a shaky breath, he stepped quietly inside. While stealth had not been his strong suit, he was able to keep quiet enough on the stone floors to reach the window seat without disturbing them._

_Crouching, he grabbed the blanket, briefly admiring the stitch and embroidery, before laying it over Lady Sansa and Shireen. Sansa sighed softly, a sound that would haunt his darkest thoughts forever, but thankfully did not open her eyes._

_He looked down at her for several minutes, tempting fate, and when his heart ached with the pain of what he could not have, he stepped back. Forcing himself to move, he turned away and stormed back to his offices._

“I’ve known this night was coming for a moon now” Sansa faced him in the dim light of their bedroom, the King’s room. “I’ve thought of this more times than could count, but I admit, I am still nervous.”

“An understandable emotion” he moved beside her, trailing his fingers across her shoulder to the silken skin of her throat. He admired her beauty in the firelight, smiling as she lifted her chin into his touch, exposing her throat. 

“Husband…”

“I wondered once, if I were to place my head here, if all the worries of the world would vanish” he leaned closer, lowering his lips to the column of her throat, allowing his lips to trail across her flesh. Her sigh was intoxicating, urging him on and he followed the tendon of her neck to her jaw kissing her softly. 

“Stannis” she whimpered and he nuzzled against her. Gone was his crown and he could feel the warmth of her against his forehead. 

“I was right, not a worry in sight” he wrapped his arms around her, hauling her close and her back arched as she whimpered, bowing against him as he rained kisses on her neck and collarbone. 

She cried out as his hands slid to her ass, cupping her and bringing her flush against his body, his desire pressed against her stomach. He couldn’t—wouldn’t hide his adore, his desire for her, he was not ashamed of it. It was no secret that he loved Sansa, as little affection there was in his first marriage, it was more than abundant in his second. 

When her whimpers were a crescendo in his ears, he returned to her lips, kissing her deeply. For once he was grateful for the Baratheon strength, lifting her easily and carrying her to the large bed. He’d slept alone here for so many years, surrounded by cold duty and weighed down by the burdens of a throne he didn’t want. But now he could only admire the way his beautiful bride looked spread out across the counter pane. 

“Stannis” she smiled up at him. He watched as she sat up, her fingers dancing across the laces of his doublet, parting the fabric. 

“I can hardly believe that you’re mine” he whispered, running his hand through her hair. 

“From this day, until the end of our days” she ran her hands over his linen undershirt and he felt her caress echo through his body. 

“You’re stunning” he lowered his hands to her shoes, slipping them off and dropping them to the floor. “My Queen” he trailed his fingers up her stocking clad legs to her garters, doing his best to stifle a groan as his hands met warm, delicious flesh. 

He watched her bite her lower lip as he untied her garters, running his hands down each leg, removing the silk and letting them flutter to the floor. 

“Beautiful” he repeated, raising her skirts just enough to kiss her inner ankle, calf and knee. 

“Stannis” she whimpered. He reluctantly released her legs and stood, shedding his doublet along the way. He helped her to her feet where she turned, pulling the heavy weight of her hair over her shoulder to expose the laces of her gown. He ignored the tremble in his hands as he worked the laces loose, exposing the bare flesh of her back and a barely-there silk chemise. 

“Gods” he exhaled, giving into the urge to kiss the porcelain skin at the base of her neck. She gave a sigh of her own, turned her head to look back at him as he pushed her dress from her shoulder and kissed every inch of her collarbone as it was exposed. “Better men than I have written poetry for beautiful women, but at your beauty, I find that words escape me completely.”

“The first moment I saw you” she turned to him, allowing her dress to fall from her shoulders and pool at her feet. She stood before him fully nude and he couldn’t seem to breathe. His eyes raked over her, from the porcelain swells of her breasts, the soft pink peaks reaching out to him, to the thatch of red curls at the apex of her long legs. He must have muttered a curse because she laughed softly, stepping closer to help him shed his undershirt. “I couldn’t breathe. You were exactly what I imagined a king should look like, but I wasn’t prepared for the reality of King Stannis Baratheon.”

“I am only a man” he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her flush against him, the bare flesh of their chests meeting for the first time. 

“You are more than a man, you are my husband” she countered. “The Father of my daughter, and the man who owns this” she took his hand from her back and places it between her breasts over the rapid beating of her heart. 

“And this” his hand move to cup her breast, the weight settling in his hand as his thumb skated across the peak. She gasped softly, both in surprise and pleasure, her lips parting as she looked up at him. “And this” he rolled the jeweled nipple between his thumb and forefinger, her whimper telling him everything he needed to know. 

“Then this” she leaned forward to place a kiss over his heart. “Is mine.”

“From the first moment” he promised. With a deft movement, he lifted her about the waist and set her back onto the bed. Shucking his boots and breeches, he left his small clothes on as he settled onto the mattress beside her. 

“What is this from?” she traced a scar across his side, tickling him slightly. 

“Robert’s Rebellion” he replied, smoothing her hair from her face. “It wasn’t deep, just troublesome.”

“And this?” she traced a smaller scar along the side of his neck, one he’d nearly forgotten was there. 

“Robert, when we were just boys” he told her. “Practising with our swords and he nearly took my head off.” 

“I am very glad that he did not succeed” she smiled over at him.

“As am I” he agreed. As gently as possible, he pulled Sansa closer, her chest laying atop his to renew their kisses. His hands had a will of their own, travelling every inch of her bare flesh that he could reach, committing every dip and curve to memory. 

In an attempt to get closer, Sansa lifted her right leg, settling it across his and his hands were instantly eager to chart the new territory she’d revealed. She mewled against his mouth as his fingers brushed her folds, the heat from her core beckoning him like a moth to flame. 

“Oh” she pulled back to look into his eyes as he used his fingers to tease and stroke her. Her hair had fallen around their heads, creating their own secret world where only they existed. As he circled the delicate bundle of nerves at the top of her slit, she pulled her lower lip into her teeth, her eyes fluttering shut as she whimpered. 

He watched her, certain that his face with pulled into an expression of awe, which was the only way to describe what he felt in this moment. His cock was aching to be freed from his smallclothes, desperate to be buried deeply within her, but he was determined to make this night as enjoyable as possible for her. She deserves nothing less. 

“Stannis” she held to his shoulders, her hips absently rocking with his ministrations as she blindly raced towards her climax. He could feel how soaked, how swollen she was and he felt more like a man--like a King, than he ever had before. He heard her breathing hitch, her body tremble and couldn’t take his eyes away as she came. She was all flushed porcelain skin, soft cries and frantic breathing, a true goddess in this moment. 

“That was…” she sighed. 

“Only the beginning” he promised, sliding his hand from her folds to her hip and rolling her beneath him. He settled in the cradle of her body, her leg hitched up against his hip and his cloth covered cock pressed against her. Her hair was spread around her like a halo of sunfire, her eyes gleaming with pleasure.

“I would be your wife” she said softly, reaching for the ties on his small clothes. “In every way.” He helped her to push the fabric away, unable to stifle his groan as his cock was finally freed. Her slender fingers brushed across the sensitive flesh and he clenched his jaw in an attempt to keep control. 

“I know it will hurt, but I will do my best to be gentle” he assured her, rubbing the length of his cock against her folds, coating himself in her juices. 

“I know” she said, trust shining in her eyes. Settling on one elbow, he guided himself to her opening and slowly pushed home. He felt the resistance and then tear of her maiden’s gift, felt the bit of her fingernails into his shoulders as he stretched her and forever marked her as his. 

“You’re well?”

“Yes” she whispered. “I had no idea that it would feel so lovely, so full.” 

“This is everything” he softly kissed her, grateful when she returned his kiss and her body began to relax underneath him--around him. 

When he felt the clench of her hold on his cock relent just enough, he exhaled a ragged breath and began carefully rocking against her. His hand was trembling as he cupped the curve of her ass, every ounce of his self-control was fighting back against the urge to come. He had gone without the touch of a woman for many years and had longed for Sansa’s touch for just as long. To finally be joined with her, to belong to her, was far more than he deserved, but he was never going to give her up. Not now. 

It burned, the stretch of his cock within her, but it was so deliciously sinful she struggled to catch her breath. She watched Stannis above her, the hard planes of his body and the cut of his jaw as he slowly made love to her. 

Beneath her hands she could feel the muscles of his back as they flexed and moved, each time he filled her the muscle’s tightening and releasing. She never could have imagined the way it would feel to have her husband moving within her. She’s heard women talk of pain, talk of pleasure, but they never described the details of how his cock would feel against her inner walls, how warm his skin would be against hers and the feeling of utter peace at finally being joined with the man she had loved so long. 

She should have felt maidenly embarrassment at the wet noises of their coupling, or the soft whimpers that escaped her throat, but Stannis’ soft growls and the unsteady snap of his hips told her that he felt as deeply as she did. Today had passed as if it were a dream and she was afraid every second that she would awaken to hear the angry rantings of Selyse and realize that Stannis was further from her arms than ever. 

“Sansa” Stannis groaned and she felt his pace increase. “So good, Gods, you feel good.” 

“Yes” she exhaled, doing her best to tilt her hips, to allow him to slide easily, deeply in and out of her. At some point, the burn had turned to fire and she felt as if her body was beyond her control, lost to the feeling of Stannis’. 

“Fuck” Stannis growled the dark work, turning to kiss her. His tongue parted her lips and filled her mouth, it was sloppy and lustful and she loved it. She swallowed his feral groan and felt the tremor pass through his body a second before his hips sped and then he was pulsing within her, filling her until she felt the warmth of his seed spilling from her folds. 

When their kiss ended, his lips lingered before moving to her chin and jaw. Her lips felt swollen and chafed, there was a burn between her legs and a flush across her skin, and for the first time in her life she felt like a woman. Not just a woman, a woman loved. 

When he rolled to his side, he took her with him, holding her flush against him as his cock slipped from her body. The wet, sticky feeling was foreign, but her heart raced at the realization that soon she could carry his child--their child, a sibling for Shireen and the best parts of them both. 

“My Queen” he smoothed her hair back and cupped her cheek. 

“Always” she promised, wrapping her free arm around his torso. She felt his lips press against her temple and she snuggled close, burying her face into his neck and shoulder. His arms held her tightly and she listened to the sound of his heart and his breathing, savouring every second of their first night as husband and wife. 

“Your Grace” Davos’ voice sounded behind him and Stannis turned away from where he stood, away from the sight of Sansa, Shireen and Lady Stark sitting in the courtyard enjoying brunch. He saw that Lord Stark stood with Davos and he gave them his best attempt at a smile. 

“All is well, I trust?” he asked them. 

“Indeed” Ned replied. “All is set for our return to Winterfell on the morrow. I believe the fortnight here has been much enjoyed by my wife. I know that she had worried about Sansa remaining in King’s Landing.” 

“I trust her concerns are soothed, then?” Stannis offered. 

“It is plain to see that you love my daughter, Your Grace” Ned said with an easy smile. “And that my daughter loves you in return.” 

“It is rare when a King is able to marry for love” Stannis agreed. 

“Even more so when your marriage of love also secures you the loyalty of the Northern houses” Ned gave a small smile. 

“If you’re implying--” 

“Not at all” Ned assured him. “I can see that you love her, Your Grace. I would be a fool not to.” 

“I didn’t marry her for politics” Stannis said, looking to Davos who replied with a nod and slipped from the room, closing the door behind him. “And quite frankly, Lord Stark, I am _the King_ and I would have married her regardless of your position on the matter.” 

Ned stared at him for several seconds before he finally spoke, “You love her that much.” It was a statement more than it was a question. 

“As far as I am concerned, your daughter is already the Mother of my child--my heir” Stannis reasoned. “She deserves the respect one gives a queen, the loyalty a husband gives a wife, and love a man gives a woman.” 

“I believed you to be a good man during the rebellion. We fought together, unmade a dynasty together” Ned crossed to the window, looking out at the women in the courtyard. “I once thought you incapable of feeling but I can see now that I was wrong, and for that I apologize.” 

“I didn’t feel” Stannis said softly, crossing to his side. “Not until her.” 

“Come” Ned said, moving to the veranda’s glass doors. “I am going to see my wife, I am sure you’d like to see to yours.” 

Stannis watched the man go, and after only a second’s hesitation, he followed. He reached them as Lady Catelyn stood to greet her husband, which was the same moment that Shireen spotted him and slid from her seat beside Sansa to run to him. 

“My Princess” he lifted her high against his chest and she smiled, looking back at Sansa who was watching them both. 

“My King” Sansa stood to kiss his cheek as he reached them. That was perhaps his favorite thing about being wed to Sansa, the genuine affection that lived between them and manifested itself in small touches and quick kisses. She did not turn away from his touch and more often than not, initiated them.

“My Queen” he said softly as they sat together, Shireen making herself comfortable on his lap. He felt smug satisfaction as Sansa snuggled to his side, his arm resting on her shoulders as the other held Shireen in place. Shireen who was chatting happily on his lap, holding up a stuffed doll for his inspection. 

“She really is the image of Sansa” Catelyn said with a soft smile. “Not in look, but in her light heart and easy smile. Reminds me so much of my Sansa.” Stannis heard her, but he was focused on his daughter and did not reply. 

“I have held her in my arms since the moment she was born, Mother” Sansa replied with a smile. “I suppose it makes sense that she would inherit some of my personality.” 

“Some” Stannis agreed, looking to his wife. “She has your gentle heart and love for adventure.” 

Sansa looked to him, her eyes filled with emotion, “As you say, My King.” 

_“I shall find you and I shall capture you!” Lady Sansa’s lyrical voice called beyond the windows and like a puppy to its master, Stannis followed it. He looked out at the gardens to see Sansa running after Shireen who was doing her best to toddle on unsteady legs._

_When Sansa reached the Princess, she lifted her into her arms, the little girl's screech of laughter echoing as Sansa tickled her. Both were smiling, true and genuine smiles that were a rarity in court and in the city, and Stannis was once again grateful for Sansa’s presence and influence on his daughter._

_“A lovely sight” Davos’ voice sounded beside him and Stannis nearly came out of his skin. He had been so engrossed in watching them run about, he hadn’t heard the approach of his Lord Hand._

_“I was seeing to the raucous” Stannis attempted to explain away his voyeurism but judging from Davos’ smirk, his friend saw through the lie._

_“Marya loves Lady Sansa” Davos looked back to the pair on the lawn. “Which is no small compliment.”_

_“Indeed” Stannis turned back to his desk and the work that awaited._

_“You are a widower, Your Grace” Davos said softly. “There is no shame in appreciating a beautiful woman.”_

_“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about” he ground his teeth and refused to look back at his Hand, wanting more than anything to sink into the floor._

Sansa awoke to find the bed beside her empty, a foreign feeling since she had grown accustomed to sleeping beside her husband. Sitting up, she held the blankets to her chest, and with a glance around the room she found Stannis sitting in the chair before the fire. Slipping from the sheets, she padded across the room to him.

He had not bothered to pull on any clothes, not after the evenings activities, and his long, lean frame was nude in the firelight. An errant thought crossed her mind and she couldn’t help but wonder if this is what he would look like, nude upon the Iron Throne. 

“Husband” she said softly, running her fingers across his bare shoulder. He jumped a little in surprise, clearly he had been lost in thought, and looked up at her.

“I did not mean to wake you” he apologized. “I couldn’t sleep for the worries of the realm.”

“You did not, I simply missed your warmth beside me” she stepped closer and carefully sat across his lap, the fire warming her bare skin. 

Stannis placed a kiss on her forehead, “Married four moons and I admit, I am still not accustomed to being missed” he whispered. 

“My dearest love” she kissed his cheek. “Married four moons and you’re to be a father again.” 

“What?” his eyes darted to hers, both of them wide with surprise and, perhaps, disbelief. “You’re--we’re..?”

She nodded, laughing softly, “We are. I would be surprised, but I am not ashamed that I take great pleasure in my husband.” 

“We’re going to have a baby, so soon” he said the words on a rush, as if they had finally escaped his brain. 

“I have missed two moons already, so Maester Cressen says that it is likely before the end of the year you will be able to hold another little Baratheon in your arms,” she assured him and his arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly. 

“I rather enjoy holding _this_ Baratheon in my arms” he placed his forehead against hers.

“Perhaps a son with your strong jaw” Sansa mused, tracing her fingers across his flesh. 

“Or a daughter with your fiery hair” he countered, arching into her touch like a contented kitten. “Sansa…” 

“I love you” she whispered, turning to take his lips with hers and he met her with the eager affection that she had come to adore. Adjusting her position on his lap, she moved her thighs astride his, an action she knew he approved of by the sound of his groan and the way his hands immediately gripped the curves of her ass. 

His cock was coming to life between their bodies and she indulged herself in rocking against him, stirring her own desires. His fingers flexed against her ass and he guided her hips as she reached between them to align him with her opening. 

She sank onto him with a whimper, the soft sound swallowed by his lips. There was nothing in the world that felt the way Stannis’ body did, the way he felt buried deep within her. They’d learned each other well in the moons since they wed, never spending a night apart. She had seen the way Selyse had treated him and she promised herself that he would never feel that way again.

Stannis’ hands helped her to rock and grind, moving languidly before the warmth of the fireplace. She wrapped her own arms around his neck and shoulders, anchoring herself to his strength. They were pressed together from lips to hips, neither in a hurry to ever leave their cocoon. 

She had no idea how much time passed as they moved together, sharing deep, sensual kisses and broken cries. Her peak built slowly, bit by bit, and when it crested she threw her head back and her cries filled their chambers. Stannis hands held to her back and she felt his body tense as he followed her over the edge, his body pouring into hers in deep pulses. 

She collapsed against his chest with a sigh, resting her head on his shoulder where her lips could absently kiss his neck. He held her tightly as their pulses calmed, smoothing her hair as he whispered promises of love. 

When the fire fell low, Stannis stood, lifting her into his arms and carrying her back to their bed. He snuggled to her back, holding her close as they finally succumbed to slumber. 

_“Careful” Sansa helped Shireen with her spoon, having been teaching her to feed herself the last several nights. Tonight was a perfect opportunity, as they were enjoying soup with dinner. Across from them she could feel the King’s eyes on her, his sharp gaze never missed a single detail._

_“She’s gotten quite good” Stannis noted and Sansa looked up at him with a smile._

_“She is a quick learner” Sansa assured him. “And very eager to be independent at times.”_

_“And other times?”_

_“She is very affectionate” Sansa felt her cheeks heat and looked away, back to Shireen. Shireen was safe, calm--looking at Stannis sent her heart into a riot, just as it always had. And now that the Queen had passed away, she found herself spending more and more time in the company of the King, the two of them alone with Shireen._

_It was overwhelming._

_“I would say the affection is learned from you, Lady Sansa” Stannis said quietly and she took a shuddering breath, looking back to his dark blue eyes and the firm set of his lips. Oh, those lips, she inwardly sighed._

_“From me?”_

_“I know little of affection, as I never learned. Not even as a boy” he explained and she felt her heart ache for the lonely boy that still lived in the heart of this fierce king._

_**I could teach you** she almost spoke the words aloud, but quickly swallowed them back. She would never break propriety--never speak aloud of her feelings, most of all to him. She may be, for all intents and purposes, the mother of his daughter, but she would never be his wife--as much as it pained her to think on. She was simply, Lady Sansa, a friend to the king and carer of Princess Shireen._

“It’s absurd,” Stannis scoffed, shaking his head at his Lord Hand. Davos only laughed harder, covering his mouth to muffle the sound. 

“You’re a romantic hero, Your Grace” Davos said between bouts of laughter. “A knight from the songs!”

“You’re ridiculous” Stannis pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“The people adore the Queen” Davos reasoned, doing his best to quell his laughter. “They all but worship her, and she is the very picture of the Mother.” 

“And so I become the man who gave them their Goddess” Stannis sighed, standing to pace to the window. “I suppose it is better than the riots under my brother’s rule.”

“They have nothing to riot about, Your Grace” Davos replied. “They’re well fed, well protected and all of them are hopeful that Queen Sansa carries a son.” 

“And if she does not?” Stannis asked. 

“Queen Sansa is not Selyse, there will be more children. Your people will still deify her,” Davos assured him. “And sing songs about the warrior king and his fair maiden queen” he started laughing once more. 

Stannis rolled his eyes, though still a smile crossed his lips as he remembered the songs the people had been singing as he and Sansa had passed through the city earlier that day. They had ventured to the Great Sept of Baelor so that Sansa may pray to the Mother, and Stannis had been unwilling to let her travel alone. 

As they had exited the carriage, Sansa turned to smile and wave to the people surrounding them, all of them celebrating the very obvious state of pregnancy that she was now in. Cressen says it could be any day now that their babe would arrive, an idea both terrifying and thrilling for him. 

Unlike Selyse’s pregnancy, Stannis was able to marvel at every change in Sansa’s body and every stage of their child’s growth. He would run his hands over the swell, his hand trembling in reverence as he waited to feel a kick or push against his hand. To watch as Sansa’s body created life, was awe-inspiring. 

Shireen, too, seemed to be teeming with excitement as she awaited for her sibling to arrive. Every day she would ask if it was the day, and then would ask a dozen other questions about her sibling-to-be, all of which made Sansa laugh and smile in response. As if conjured, Sansa appeared in the doorway, Shireen running ahead of her to greet Davos with a smile. 

“Mother says you’ll take me to see Aunt Marya” Shireen beamed, bouncing around Davos’ legs. 

“Did she” Davos asked, looking to Sansa. 

“I fear it is rather important that she remain with Lady Marya for at least the next few hours” Sansa looked to Stannis and it was then that he noticed the pain and unshed tears in her eyes. “She is too young to hear this--to understand.”

“Gods” he was on his feet in an instant, crossing to her side. 

“I will take her to Marya and the boys, Your Grace” Davos assured her. “Send for her when you’re ready.” 

“Thank you, Ser Davos, I am most grate--” she paused, whimpering softly and Stannis felt the sound lance across his heart. “Most grateful.” Davos nodded and scooped Shireen into his arms, carrying her from the room. “I love you, darling” Sansa kissed their daughters forehead as she passed by and Shireen happily waved as Davos carried her down the hall. 

“How long?” Stannis asked as soon as they were alone. 

“Pains started this afternoon, after we returned from the Sept” she took his hand, placing it over her stomach and he could feel the tight pull of her muscles beneath his hand. “My waters came an hour ago.” 

“And you waited” he chided. 

“I didn’t want to scare Shireen, and I---” she broke off, closing her eyes for a brief moment as he felt her stomach clench and flex. “I wanted to be certain.” 

“Let me take you to the chambers” he wrapped his arm around her lower back and escorted her down the hall. Along the way he sent a guard for Cressen, with a warning to get him quickly. 

They were nearly to the birthing chamber near their rooms when Sansa’s legs nearly gave out, her screams filling the hall and it was everything Stannis could do not to let her fall. When she quieted, he lifted her into his arms to carry her the rest of the way. 

“It hurts” she whimpered as he lay her on the bed, kneeling beside it as she curled to her side facing him. 

“I am so sorry, my love” he tucked her hair behind her ear. 

“Please do not go far” she whispered. “I do not want to...I need you.” 

“I would not be anywhere else” he promised as Cressen and several nurses rushed into the room. 

“Your Grace” Cressen greeted as the midwife, Anamora arrived with a pile of clean clothes, looking to him with surprise. 

“I am not leaving her” Stannis told the entire room. “Go about your duty and I will stay out of your way, but I am not leaving my Queen.” A brief moment passed and then they all resumed their work, doing their best to ignore the presence of the King. 

Time passed in an odd sort of haze, everyone moving quickly, tending to their individual tasks while Stannis sat with his wife, holding her hand as she screamed and cried through each pain. He’d waged war, he’d lived under siege and gone to sleep every night of it knowing it could be his last, he ruled the Seven Kingdoms--and yes this, this was the most terrifying experience of his life. 

He could only encourage her, his warrior queen as she labored, keeping her hair from her face and helping her to drink water. The nurses seemed to have grown accustomed to his presence, some even being as bold as to give him advice and instructions, to help him help Sansa. 

It was full dark when Sansa’s screams reached fever pitch and then, her cries were joined by that of a babe, her body sagging in relief. Stannis looked to her legs and saw the bloodied, screaming bundle in Anamora’s arms, a shock of dark hair atop its head. 

“A son, Your Grace” Anamora smiled at him. “A strong, healthy Prince.” 

“A son” Sansa sobbed, now with joy as tears ran down her cheeks and she turned into his chest, holding on to him. “Our son.” 

“Gods” Stannis felt faint, as if every bit of air had been stolen from his body. A son. He had a _son_. A dream that he had long ago given up, had come true, he had a son and the Iron Throne had its heir. 

He held Sansa as she delivered the babe’s blanket and then helped her to a warm bath before carrying her to their bedchamber. Once she was settled into the bed, Stannis turned to Anamora and the midwife hid her surprised well as he held out his arms for their son. Sansa had, after all, taught him how to hold a baby many years ago, and at last he was holding their child. Even asleep he was the image of his sister, another proud Baratheon with dark hair. In the distance the bells began to ring, this time signalling that the Queen had birthed a child.

“I will leave you to your evening, Your Grace, and I wish you congratulations” Anamora said with a curtsey. 

“If you would,” Stannis called to her. “Send us Shireen? And I thank you for your help.” 

“It is my honor, Your Grace” she bowed her head and slipped from the room. 

“Little Steffon” Sansa’s smile was heart-stoppingly beautiful as he joined her on the bed, sitting beside her. 

“He is perfect, My Queen” he marvelled. “Thank you for this precious gift.” 

“I should thank you, My King” she smoothed a hand over his arm and covered his hand with hers. “It was you who planted the seed, who gave me such a beautiful son.” Steffon gave a whimper, his eyes blinking open and Stannis smiled at the bright blue that looked back at him. More Tully than Baratheon, he was hopeful that their son would have his mother’s eyes.

“Are you well?” he asked her, looking over her person. 

“Tired and sore, but I have never been happier,” she replied as their son began to whimper and cry. Sansa sat up a little on the pillows and Stannis turned to place Steffon into her arms. “Shh, my little stag” she soothed him. “Would you--the ties?” she lifted her chin and he untied the neck of her shift, the material gaping and allowing her to bare her breasts. 

“I have never” he cleared his throat, eyes glued to where she guided Steffon to her nipple. 

“Nor have I” she said softly, beckoning him to her side and he went without pause, fitting to her side to rest his head on her shoulder as they watched their son enjoy his first meal. 

At a knock at the door jam a short while later, Stannis turned to to see Davos and Shireen, and his oldest friend looked at him expectantly. 

“A son, Davos” Stannis told him. 

“I have a brother?” Shireen asked, cautiously approaching, leaving Davos in the doorway. 

“You do, my darling” Sansa told her and Shireen rounded the bed, climbing up onto the mattress. 

“I will, with your permission, see to it that the news is spread” Davos said. 

“Thank you, Davos” Stannis told him and he vanished into the hall, closing the door behind him. 

“He’s so little” Shireen inched closer. 

“He will grow” Sansa assured her. 

“Tall like Father?” 

“Perhaps even taller” Sansa smiled and Shireen giggled. 

“There are no men taller than Father” Shireen said, crawling into Stannis’ lap to get a closer look at the baby. 

“Steffon” Stannis told her. “Steffon Davos Baratheon.” 

“Like Uncle Davos?” 

“Like Uncle Davos” Stannis nodded, kissing his daughter’s forehead. They lapsed into silence and a few moments later, Shireen was asleep against his chest, worn out from the afternoon of running around with the Seaworth boys. 

“Sometimes” Sansa whispered, smoothing her fingers over Steffon’s cheek. “Sometimes I worry that this is all a dream. That I will wake from his beautiful dream and see that you are not mine” she looked to him and he carefully leaned forward and kissed her. 

“If it is a dream, let us never wake” he whispered. “For I could not go back to a world where you were not my wife.” 

“Nor could I” she agreed, leaning against his side. In the silence of their chambers, they could hear the echoes and songs of the celebration that had begun in the city. Their people were rejoicing, praising their goddess Queen, singing their songs and surely dancing. 

But here, Stannis looked at his family, committing every detail of this moment to memory, here the Baratheons were safe, together and a healthy family of four. At last. 

Laughter echoed in the air and Stannis lifted his head from his missives, a small smile crossed his lips as he turned toward the sound. Standing, he excused himself from Davos and walked to the glass doors of the veranda. The sight that greeted him was one that never failed to warm his heart, and was in fact one of his favorite sights in the world. 

Sansa had carried a blanket to the shade of the garden and there she was stretched out on the blanket with Shireen who was reading aloud and Steffon who was happily giggling at his older sister.  
In Sansa’s arms was their second daughter, Cassana, who was only a two moon’s old and content to sleep in her mother’s arms. Cassana Catelyn Baratheon had arrived in the middle of the afternoon, healthy and much louder than her siblings, which was a perfect match for her fiery red hair. 

His wife, his Queen, was the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms, and the most loving mother. She refused to let the children spend their days with nannies and while Shireen had a tutor to assist with her education, Sansa was their full time caregiver. Something she took pride in. 

As if she felt his eyes, Sansa looked up to smile at him across the gardens, a smile he returned as always. 

“I think we’re done for today” Stannis told Davos who stood with a nod. “Go to your boys, we’ve been buried in here too long.” 

“I will not argue, but simply bid you good evening, Your Grace” Davos nodded his head and Stannis didn’t stay to watch him go, his long legs were already carrying him across the lawns.

“Father!” Steffon shouted when he spotted him, rising to unsteady legs and running towards him. 

“There’s my boy” Stannis lifted him high against his chest, hugging him close and carrying him back to the blanket in the shade. 

“We’re having a picnic” Shireen explained as he sat beside Sansa, setting Steffon on his lap. 

“Indeed” Stannis looked to the basket of food briefly before leaning over to kiss Sansa. 

“You didn’t eat, did you?” she asked softly. 

“You know me well” he smiled. 

“A little” she smirked, reaching into the basket and pulling out bread, cheese and fruit. “Eat.” 

“I live to obey, My Queen” Stannis shared the food with Steffon, their attention returning to Shireen where she was reading aloud from a storybook. 

Stannis spared a glance to the glass windows of his offices, the place where he had watched Lady Sansa for years. Where he had admired her patience, her grace and her kind heart, where he had lamented his love for her--a woman he believed that he could never have. 

“Father, look” Steffon poked him and he turned to see Shireen showing them a painting in the book, this one of a terrifying dragon and a knight fighting it off. No more glass doors, he smiled, looking to Sansa, his wife and his lover. No more watching from a distance. Instead he was here, on a blanket in the shade of a great tree, beside his Queen and children, and there was no where else he would rather be.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr for pic sets and more shenanigans!  
> @the-red-wulf or https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Winter's Princess](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26309878) by [januarywren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/januarywren/pseuds/januarywren)




End file.
